


We're Alone Now

by Svartalfhild



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 10:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6420619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svartalfhild/pseuds/Svartalfhild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Flemeth rescues the last Ferelden Grey Wardens, Alistair anxiously waits for Surana to recover and ruminates about their fate and his relationship to this young woman he barely knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Alone Now

He was alone and the dull aches where his wounds had been seemed to be all the more acute for it. He had always been able to find something amusing about any situation, no matter how stressful, but this. There was nothing funny about this. All he felt was a great, all-consuming emptiness. It was loss and confusion and a growing anxiety for the young woman who still lay unconscious inside the house behind him.

The memory of seeing Surana struck down by darkspawn arrows was still fresh in his mind. The look of shock on her face as the first arrow had pierced her shoulder was not something he was likely to soon forget, especially with her still not recovered. She had an innocence about her that seemed to have shattered in that little moment and it pained him to think of how that would affect her if she woke up.

If Surana died, he didn't know if he would be able to handle it, not just because it would mean the loss of another Grey Warden, but also because she mattered to him. He loved the way she giggled at his jokes and actually listened to him when he spoke to her. She never talked down to him. In fact, for all the talent and beauty he saw in her, she didn't seem to even acknowledge that she had these qualities, let alone try to lord them over others. She was kind and soft-spoken and though he hadn't known her for very long, it was enough for him to become attached.

There was also the matter of his duty. In a way, Duncan had put Surana in his care and made her safety his responsibility.

“We have a new recruit from the Circle of Magi. She's an elf named Surana and if she survives the Joining, I'd like you to work with her,” Duncan had told him.

“Me?! Why me? I'm not sure I've been at this long enough to set a good example. And besides, don't you think she'll be just a teensy bit uncomfortable when she finds out I was once a templar?”

“The only life this young woman knows is the Circle. Judging by the situation she was in when I recruited her, I would say that what she needs is not another strict instructor to crack the whip until she can hold her own, but instead an equal who will put her at ease enough for her natural talents to shine. You can do that for her, Alistair,” Duncan had explained, only furthering Alistair's confusion.

“How?”

“By being yourself.”

“Well that's maddeningly unhelpful. As we're all aware, my foot is known to have an intimate relationship with my mouth,” Alistair had retorted, prompting a sigh from his mentor.

“Don't be so hard on yourself, dear boy.”

Looking back on it, Alistair felt he had failed spectacularly at everything Duncan had hoped for. He hadn't protected Surana as well as he could have and now she lay dying. If he lost her, he would never forgive himself. Almost immediately after he had awoken, he had gone to sit at Surana's side and had pestered Morrigan and her mother with questions of what he could do to help until the old woman had practically dragged him from the house by the ear.

“Calm yourself, boy. Your companion will soon be perfectly well. If you want to be helpful, take a moment of quiet to collect yourself. You'll be no use to your friend in a panic,” she told him dryly. Her words were far too blunt to make him feel much better. In fact, he began to feel the burn of threatening tears behind his eyes. Of all the people in the world who could have rescued him and Surana, why did it have to be a pair of crotchety witches of questionable intent?

At that thought, it struck him how utterly alone he and Surana were now. The only thing either of them had anymore was each other. His insides twisted with a cocktail of painful emotions. What were they going to do? They couldn't stop the Blight with one sword and one staff. The only solace Alistair got from that grim realization was the fact that it was Surana of all people who was with him, Surana, who seemed to care about him as much as he cared about her. She had a magic in her that had nothing to do her being a mage. He could feel it pulling him to her like a growing plant towards the sun.

Maker, he was starting to sound like he had a crush. He totally didn't. That would be ridiculous. She'd probably never think of him that way anyway, so what would be the point?

Alistair was stirred from his thoughts by Flemeth's sharp tones telling him that his friend had emerged from the house. When he turned to look and saw Surana standing there, her expression a mix of uncertainty and hope, a massive wave of relief washed over him. Her lower lip trembled, so slightly and briefly that he almost didn't catch it. They stared at each other for a good long moment before rushing into a tight embrace.

“You...you're alive!” he gasped.

“Alistair, I...I think we're alone now,” Surana murmured into his shoulder as he let out his relief in a laugh. “I think we're the only surviving Grey Wardens.” In his heart, he knew she was right and he held her tighter for it.

 


End file.
